


numb until you burn it

by Archadian_Skies



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father Figures, Father-Son Relationship, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, Good Parent Hank Anderson, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Neglect, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Team Bonding, Team as Family, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Has a Different Name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:07:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25282093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archadian_Skies/pseuds/Archadian_Skies
Summary: They find him and he calls himself Nines and they call him son, they call him brother. He works alongside them and he is content to earn his place; he knows camaraderie is not handed to someone new. If only it didn't hurt so much to be known as The Other Android.They find him and they invite him into lives, into their home but he does not belong there. He is not Connor, but he wishes to be more than his predecessor's shadow. He wishes to be the flame that casts it instead, he wishes to burn as brightly and be as beloved.He will earn it someplace else.
Relationships: Captain Allen & Upgraded Connor | RK900, Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900, Hank Anderson & Connor, Hank Anderson & Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 & Sumo, Hank Anderson & Upgraded Connor | RK900, Upgraded Connor | RK900 & Simon
Comments: 27
Kudos: 111





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Numb Until You Earn It](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24458599) by [TheAsexualofSpades](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAsexualofSpades/pseuds/TheAsexualofSpades). 



> **PLEASE NOTE!!!:** this fic diverges from [Numb until you earn it] by TheAsexualofSpades midway, when RK900 leaves the living room and exits the house into the backyard. It's required reading before proceeding, to understand the events that unfold.

It is cold. It is windy. It is supposed to storm tonight. He walks towards the fence and the door behind him does not open, there is no dramatic calling of his name, no worry to be heard in such a call; his preconstruction program put the probability of such an occurrence at 12% given the accumulated evidence. He walks further still and he reaches the fence. It is all that keeps him here, because the pair inside do not. Gripping the top of the fence, he effortlessly vaults over the wooden barrier and is free.

He walks and the wind howls, angrily lashing out at the obstruction forging its way against it. His temperature sensors take a moment to adjust. It is not comfortable, but it is stable. It does not hurt. Nines closes his eyes when the stronger gusts start to blow, reminding him of where he is. He walks until Michigan Drive is left far behind, and then he walks further still. He does not bother to keep track of time, he does not follow any direction, he pays no heed to his flashing vitals on the HUD. He turns off his communication channel. He lets it all fade away, lets it wash over him like the storm that has finally arrived.

It is cold. 

Nines does not know how long he has been walking for. In the dark, in the wind, in the cold. He searches for the right word to describe what is happening to him. 

**Numb: deprived of the power of sensation; unable to think, feel, or respond normally.**

That is it. He is numb. 

Perhaps if he walks further enough, he will go completely numb. Then it will not hurt anymore when he is called ‘the Other Android.’ He will earn his happiness, perhaps he can earn it through becoming numb first. 

His surroundings have changed, the suburbs too have faded away and he finds himself standing at the sprawling, ever-changing docklands that house Jericho. The androids patrolling the perimeter glance at him briefly, spotting his LED before they continue onward. Here, it is a different kind of unseen. Here it is a comfort to blend in with other androids, to be glanced at and passed by not because he is unwanted, but because he is one of them. 

**DANGER**

>>Core temperature **UNSTABLE**

He walks towards the thirium processing plant where the steam billows like clouds, spilling out into the air and quickly dissipating into the rain. Warmth emanates from the towering building and he is drawn to it like a moth to the flame. He slips in through one of the doors after an android exits the warehouse, and the sudden wall of heat slams into him. Trembling as his system tries to cope with the shock, he makes his way towards the huge, looming vats and huddles behind one of them. It’s almost unbearably loud, the sounds echoing in the space; churning, sloshing, thrumming, humming. He closes his eyes and wraps his arms around himself, trying to stop his violent shaking. 

“Ah, I see someone else has found my secret hiding place.” A voice teases lightly, and his eyes snap open. “It’s alright, I can share.”

It’s Simon PL600, one of the Jericho Four. The other android looks him over, brows creasing with worry though there’s a gentle smile on his lips. “It’s not good to stay in wet clothes, your internal temperature will remain low no matter how much heat surrounds you.”

He says nothing. He is unable to say anything. Simon steps closer, guiding him to uncross his arms so he can ease the jacket from his body. He lets him remove it, fingers too clumsy to help with the buttons on his shirt as Simon removes that too. 

“I’m going to fetch you a blanket from my hidden stash. Please remove the rest of your clothing.” The PL600 vanishes and Nines manages to at least kick off his shoes and socks, and peel off his trousers. He’s standing in just his standard issue briefs when Simon returns to tuck a large blanket around him. “Now, lean against the vat.” He rests a hand on his chest and gently pushes him until his back hits the warm steel. A full body shudder runs up the length of his body and he grits his teeth as his system shifts to adjust to the influx of heat. “It’s alright, I know what I’m doing; PL600s with their broken thermal regulators and all.” Simon’s smile is wry as he taps his own chest. Reaching up, he takes another blanket and uses it as a towel to tousle his hair dry. “Stay still and let your core temperature rise slowly. Don’t initiate any complex processes.”

“Thank you.” His teeth chatter violently and Simon huffs a not unpleasant laugh.

“Like I said, I can share.” Simon wraps a blanket around himself, leaning his back against the vat beside him. “I sneak in here when it gets too cold.”

“You are not asking why I am here.” Nines murmurs, his shaking now settled into a tremor as his core temperature stabilises.

“Do you want me to ask why you’re here?” Simon turns the statement into a question, and Nines looks away. “You’re here and you need help, so I’m helping. That’s all I need to know.” 

The PL600 stiffens suddenly, and presses two fingers to his temple. A frown downturns his lips as his brows crease. “It’s an incoming call from Connor.”

Ah. So they noticed. “Shall I tell him you’re here?” He shakes his head, and Simon nods. “Hello Connor. Your brother is safe, and is in no immediate danger. No he will not be going home tonight. Or, well, this morning I guess I should say.” Oh. His internal clock states it is 12:01am. Hank and Connor arrived home at 6:37pm. It has taken them at least around five hours to notice. “No I will not disclose his location, he does not wish for you to know. No, Connor. I assure you he is safe. No. He will see you later today. Goodnight.”

Simon ends the call, his smile a little tight. Nines looks at his toes, unable to maintain eye contact. Fingers gently touch what must be his bright red LED. “He sounded very worried.”

“It is a little late for that.” Nines barely bites back a scowl, and the rush of anger is a source of warmth filling his veins. He embraces it because it hurts, the way it seems to burn up inside. 

Simon slowly slides down until he’s sitting, back still pressed to the vat and after a moment Nines does the same. It isn’t fair to Simon, to one of the leaders of their people, to waste his time here. Not without knowing why, in the very least. Nines retracts the skin from his hand and offers it silently to the PL600, who clasps it with his own. He shows Simon how his colleagues do not remember his name, how they do not ask for him, how he is separated from them, an afterthought, how they do not notice him. He shows how he is The Other Android. He shows Simon the memory from earlier tonight, when even Sumo did not notice him leave. 

In turn Simon shows him the chaos, the breakneck speed with which the Jericho Four hurtle down the path of making history, forging a way for their people. He shows Nines how exhausting it is, to be the one with nothing to offer. He is a domestic model, made for childrearing and housekeeping; he has none of Josh’s wisdom, he has no fire burning inside like North, he is nothing, nothing _nothing_ in comparison to Markus’ eloquence, his leadership, his charisma. He shows Nines how sometimes he slips into a standard PL600 uniform and vanishes into the throng of androids, completely anonymous, and how the other three never notice he is gone. 

The connection snaps shut and they are one and the same. Nines exhales, closing his eyes as Simon leans against him, resting his head on his shoulder. One and the same.

“No one sees me. I do not know where I fit in- _if_ I fit in anywhere, at all. How am I meant to know?” He confesses and Simon sighs in reply.

“I can’t answer that one. I’ve been asking myself that question for years now.” Simon toys with the hem of the blanket. “Some days I think I am where I belong. Other days I feel like I am a pawn and this is all a large game of chess orchestrated by Elijah Kamski. As if I am just a piece being moved around, and all of this is a meticulously constructed sequence of events on a script. But I see you, Nines.”

“And I see you too, Simon.” It’s a whisper nearly lost to the noise, and he’s graced with a soft smile from the other android.

“Then we best look out for each other.”

They’re quiet for a while and he loses himself to the cacophony of sounds around them. It’s a good fifteen minutes later when Simon finally speaks again, his touch light on his arm.

“What I do know for sure is that you’re welcome to share my hiding place. This one and my office-slash-apartment not too far from here.”

“Are you in the habit of collecting strays?” Nines tries to tease in return and it earns a tired laugh from the PL600.

“I suppose that’s how all this started.” Simon muses, gesturing around them. “What was Jericho, what _is_ Jericho, but a home for strays?” 

* * *

There is a small window after Captain Jeffrey Fowler arrives for the day, and before Hank and Connor will arrive. In the end Nines has to find new clothes from the clothing warehouse because his uniform is still soaking wet, before he can depart for Central Station by taxi. He is cutting it fine, but he manages to step inside the office before his keen hearing picks up the sound of Hank’s car pulling up. 

“Nines?”

“Captain, I apologise for the sudden intrusion.” 

“Sit.” He gestures at the chair, pressing a button to turn the glass walls from clear to opaque, providing them with privacy. “Must be important if you’re flashing an alarm.” He taps his temple, indicating at what must be his red LED.

“When I arrived here, Lieutenant Anderson and Connor vouched for my character and filled out the application on my behalf so I may be integrated into the Android Crimes Division as an assistive detective unit.” A nod to continue. “However, you also suggested a different division based on the profile you received from CyberLife.”

“I wanted to put you on Allen’s team; SWAT unit 32.” His brows raise. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“I am having first thoughts.” Nines corrects. “The decision to join the Android Crimes Division was not mine. I do not belong there, my talents are better suited to the SWAT unit, as per your original suggestion.”

“You talk this over with them already?” By _them_ , Nines knows he means Hank and Connor. 

“With all due respect, Captain, this matter does not concern them.”

“Hank is your commanding officer, it concerns him plenty. And that’s your brother you’re leaving too.” He says _brother_ and there’s an awful twinge in his chest, as if Captain Fowler wedged a knife in there and _twisted_.

“The RK800 is perfectly capable of managing the workload by himself.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“It would be a waste to double up.” Nines continues, and he can hear Hank and Connor settling at their desks, can hear their worried murmuring, the slight stutter of Connor’s hearts from stress. “I can do everything he can do, but I am also a Myrmidon unit. You have read my specifications. They built me for combat. I have no social programming, I am not made for interviewing witnesses and gaining their trust. I do not know how to placate a traumatised witness. I cannot negotiate a hostage situation. They built me to bring the situation under control by force, and I cannot do so if I am following my predecessor around a crime scene.”

Captain Fowler remains silent, eyeing him with an unwavering, scrutinising gaze. He sighs heavily, shaking his head as he retrieves his tablet from his drawer.

“Transfer to SWAT unit 32, under Captain David Allen’s command. Effective immediately upon signature.” He places the device on the table and turns it to face him but doesn’t push it closer. “Nines, are you _absolutely_ sure?”

Nines reaches out and presses his finger to the device, his serial number appearing on the signature line. 

“Nines!” The chair clatters to the ground as Connor stands bolt upright. Rushing to him, he grips his arms tightly, LED bright red. “Nines what- why did you-”

“Where the hell did you go?” Hank demands. They’re causing a scene, and there is irony to be found in that, he thinks, now he has all eyes on him. 

“Perhaps a conversation for a more private place?” He suggests, and Hank scoffs, throwing his hands up in frustration before making a shooing motion towards the interrogation rooms. Nodding, he strides ahead and they follow, Hank bringing up the rear and locking the room behind him.

“Well?” He demands, though there’s no malice- just worry. “The hell happened last night?! You just vanished!”

“I left.”

“Yeah no shit Sherlock!” Hank growls as Connor paces anxiously, wringing his hands together.

“You had us worried sick!”

“Were you?”

“Of course we were!” Connor nearly shouts, grabbing his arms again. “We couldn’t find you!”

“When?”

“What?”

“When could you not find me?” He is tired all too suddenly. He wants to go back to Jericho. He wants to hide behind the thirium vats and breathe in the steam to warm his core and banish the numbness away. “When I left work early? When I made dinner? When I sat there while you and Hank watched the game? When I went into the backyard? When I jumped the fence and walked and walked and _walked_ ?” He yanks Connor’s hands off of him and forces the memories into the RK800, everything, _all of it,_ the raw hurt, the violence of being ignored and cast aside and overlooked, he shows him with crystal clarity the moment he and Hank got home and walked right passed him and how Hank ate the food he cooked, how they sat on the couch and joked and watched and not once did they look at him. He shows Connor the moment he hesitated when he stood up, hoping that the movement would at least draw him attention, but no, nothing, and so he leaves, so he vaults the fence, and so he walks. He does not show him Jericho, he does not show him Simon, he does not _deserve_ such a precious memory, no he deserves nothing but anger and betrayal because that’s all Nines has, that’s all that’s left. Instead he shows him the signed document, and Captain Fowler nodding gravely.

_When, precisely, did you miss me?_

He pulls away and Connor is crying, and he feels… nothing. He is numb again, and this time it is a shield, this time it is a welcome barrier around him that Connor cannot break.

“I am transferring to Captain Allen’s SWAT unit today.” He says to Hank, and then he leaves.

* * *

David Clark Allen has been on this godforsaken earth in this godforsaken city for forty-three godforsaken years and he is too fucking tired. He gets an email, a signed transfer notice, and an android standing in his office in the span of ten minutes. They say androids are efficient and boy they sure fucking are. They also say androids are alive now, and he’s been trying to wrestle with that one for weeks. He sent countless assistive units to their deaths, treated them like cannon fodder, like shields to soak up the bullets so his team would stay safe. Now he has to grapple with the fact he could’ve been sending frightened not-people-but-alive-creatures to their deaths. That they could’ve been scared. That they could feel at all, that maybe they had family too. He wants to say it’s bullshit but he’s not so sure now. 

The android standing in front of him is one of Anderson’s boys. The younger-but-bigger-one. He worked with Connor before, learned he actually was the very first human to command Connor on his very first mission though the Connor from that night hadn’t been ‘awake’ yet. 

“Captain Allen, I am the RK900 transferring from the Android Crimes Division.”

“Nines Anderson, right?”

“No.” He says it so quickly, with such force. He cocks a brow and the android looks away. “I do not have the Anderson surname formally.”

“You want some salsa for the chip on your shoulder?”

“Lieutenant Hank and Connor Anderson are of no concern to you, and are in no way involved with my transfer.” Nines says in that clipped tone that sounds nothing like Connor at all. “Captain Fowler had originally wanted to place me in your unit.”

“I made a request for new equipment.” David says lightly with a smirk. “But you’re not equipment anymore I suppose. I’ll accept the transfer of new personnel instead.”

“I am a weapon under your command.” 

“You will be an _officer_ in my _team_.” He snaps, glaring at the android. “I will not treat you otherwise, I will not tolerate anything less.” Not in this godforsaken city, not under his watch. Better to swim across the rip tide, not into it; he won’t be swept up to the wrong side of history. “We generally refer to each other by our surnames. You don’t have the Anderson surname, so do you want me to just call you Nines? Or do you want to pick one?” The android is quiet for a moment, LED flickering yellow before it cycles blue.

“Rook.”

“Like the chess piece?” The castle that fortifies the end of the board, defending its land and cutting down all in its way.

“Yes.”

“Alright, Rook it is.” Standing, he beckons. “Follow me.”

Exiting his office, he heads for the training hall in the auxiliary building behind the main station. An array of equipment fills the large hall as well as obstacle courses and a climbing wall. There’s a few of his team getting in some training already, and they pause when they spot him. 

He looks at the RK900 standing beside him, dressed completely in black, spine ramrod straight and hands neatly tucked at the small of his back. “Scan the room. Calculate a route running clockwise through every obstacle course. Finish with the climbing wall.” The android nods and shifts, leaning forward slightly into a runner’s position. He pinches his watch to swap to the timer function. “Go.” 

He goes, fuck he _goes_ , taking off like a greyhound sprinting out of the gates and David can only watch in awe as the android tears through the course with barely a pause. He vaults up and clambers to the top of the wall, just like _that_ , and he’s looking at his watch and it says three minutes and fifteen seconds. His team members are all frozen in place, eyes wide with surprise. He raises his voice as the android jogs back to stand beside him.

“This is Rook. He starts with us today.”


	2. Chapter 2

“I am transferring to Captain Allen’s SWAT unit today.” Nines says to him, and walks away. Hank turns to follow, but Connor chokes back a sob, catching his attention. Striding forward he pulls the android into his arms and squeezes him close, Connor trembling in his hold. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay son, it’s okay I’ve got you.” He murmurs, rubbing his back. He cries like a human, not that Hank expected he wouldn’t- more that he expected Connor to be unable to cry at all. By the way he sobs, the way he clings to him, Connor probably thought he was unable to cry too right up until this very moment. 

“He feels completely alone.” Connor’s voice trips with static, probably the android equivalent of hiccuping through sobs. “We treated him like he was completely invisible last night.”

“What? No! We- we were watching the game with him! He was there on the armchair!” Hank argues, thinking back to last night. “And then he just left!”

“We didn’t say a single word to him, Hank. We didn’t even say hello when we arrived.” Connor shakes his head, LED burning bright red in the dull lighting of the interrogation viewing gallery. “We only noticed when the game finished and it was time to get ready for you to sleep.”

Hank frowns. “No that can’t be right, we-”

“He showed it to me. He showed me his memories, it was like he wasn’t even there.” Connor’s bottom lip trembles, brown eyes owlishly glassy with more tears. “So he left. He left and we still didn’t notice. And no one at work pays him any attention, no one sees him, they just see me and an extension of me. They even call him ‘the other android’.”

Hank feels winded as the revelation sinks in. If he thinks about it, everything Connor’s said is true; he asks for Connor by default, not out of any malice, but that’s not to say it wouldn’t feel hurtful to Nines. 

“He’s an afterthought at best, and invisible at worst.” Connor wipes his eyes clumsily. “We have to fix this. He’s my brother, he shouldn’t have to feel this way.”

“We’ll fix it.” Hank vows, nodding as he pulls Connor into an embrace again. “I’ll fix it, son, I promise.”

When he knocks on Fowler’s door, the man gives him a weary sigh and motions for him to sit down. 

“Save it.” He holds up his palm, cutting Hank off before he can even get a word in. “Nines asked for this transfer and I made damn sure it was what he wanted before I signed off on it.”

“Listen, he just- he’s havin’ a hard time fitting in, that’s all. He doesn’t need to transfer, we’ll work on it.” He tries to reason but Jeffrey shakes his head. 

“I wanted to place him on Allen’s team from the very beginning. It was only because you and Connor argued and vouched for him that I allowed him to join your division.” He places the tablet on the table for Hank to see the signed document. “He never got a say in that, Hank. This is the decision he made for himself, and I believe it’s the right one.”

“Allen’s never had an android on his team, he’s wracked up the most android casualties against all of us put together!” Hank growls, throwing his hands up in frustration. “You’re putting Nines in a hostile environment!”

“Which is no different from this one, because might I remind you before Connor this precinct never had an android on our team either!” Jeffrey holds him with a stern glare. “I get it Hank, I do. You’re worried about your boy, but he needs to find his feet. If he felt like he didn’t fit in here, then that’s his call to make. His specifications lean towards combat, not detective work, so he’s a natural fit for Allen’s team. I’m not going to dishonour his decision.”

Burying his face in his hands, Hank feels an all too familiar exhaustion settle into his bones. 

“Whatever’s going on in your family is your business,” Jeffrey takes the tablet and slides it back into his drawer “but when you’re on the clock you’re under my command. Get back to work, and let your son see where he fits best.”

* * *

They are staring at him, gauging him, and he remains unflinching under their scrutiny. He scrutinises them in turn; MacMaster, April; Volkova, Lena; Otto, Silas; Ishikawa, Milo. 

“Show him the ropes. Get to know each other.” Captain Allen commands. “My team runs like a well-oiled machine and I expect you to fit in and do your job.” A pause as he looks at the four humans. “I expect my team to work with you, as if you’ve been here from the start. All our lives depend on it, and yours is no exception.” He fastens them with a strict, unwavering glare. Silence stretches between them as the humans shuffle about, unsure and unwilling to make the first move. 

“So…” Silas Otto speaks first, eyeing him curiously. “You’re the RK900, right?”

“Correct.”

“Thought you were with the cops- why come here?” Lena Volkova asks next.

“I am better suited to combat than detective work.” 

“But you’re still a detective bot, right?” Milo Ishikawa follows, seemingly unable to stop with his barrage of questions. “Connor’s the RK800, so you’re like, the next one? Hey can you do the gross licky thing like Connor? That thing he does- lick anything and identify it? I heard he licked a crime scene at the Eden Club- do you do that too, can you lick, like, sweat on the weights and know who it belongs to?”

“I do not need to be anything like him, I do not need to sample anything on your person to know you and officer Otto engaged in sexual activity earlier, you positively reek of his fluids!” He does not mean to be so brash, and he regrets it the moment the words tumble out of his mouth. There is a pause of silence before April slaps his shoulder and doubles over laughing, clutching her middle as Lena bursts into laughter shortly after too.

“Really Ishi? While on the clock?” Captain Allen cocks brow, a smile twitching on his lips. “It’s not even lunchtime for fuck’s sake, can you leave your husband alone for a few goddamn hours while working? We have a mission in two hours and in the meantime I’ve got shit to do so play nicely until I’m back for the briefing. And by that I mean _train_ , so if you two sneak off again I’m transferring one of you.”

“Yes Captain.” Rook nods obediently, feeling slightly ashamed for his outburst. The humans echo similarly as their superior takes their leave, Silas and Milo both with sheepish contrition on their faces. 

“A rookie named Rook.” April pats his arm, then reaches up to touch his hair. “God you’re so big. You’re bigger than Gillespie.”

“His ego needs deflating, this should do it.” Lena gestures at him. “Alright rookie. You’ve shown us how fast you are, let’s see how sturdy you are too.”

Hazing is what he assumes will happen next, a way to goad him, push him, test his limits to see if he buckles or if he passes whatever arbitrary test they have concocted with their own parameters for measuring his success. Instead his teammates seem perpetually curious about his capabilities. It is why he finds himself doing push ups while April MacMaster sits on his back. She trades places with Silas Otto, and this time he stands on his back, dumbbell in each hand as he performs bicep curls, adjusting to the steady up and down motion as Rook continues to perform push ups. It is how he finds himself doing pull ups at the bar with Lena Volkova clawing at his hands trying to unlatch him. She is unsuccessful, of course, and this only spurns Milo Ishikawa to join her and then his husband joins them and then April MacMaster tries to leap at him from behind, thinking she could surprise him when in fact he could hear her quickening heartbeat as she sprinted towards him and adjusted his grasp accordingly. He lets go of one arm and pulls himself up using the other arm only and they groan in defeat, dropping to the mat. 

“CyberLife’s latest and greatest, ain’t that right rookie?” Silas groans as Rook drops down safely beside him. “Oh my god it’s gonna take all of us to make him break a sweat.” 

“I do not sweat.”

“It’s a figure of speech.” He waves dismissively. 

“Oh fuck, you know what we should do?” April is grinning and he already knows it will be another test. Though he will not mind it. These tests are...enjoyable. “Rook runs the track again but like, with weights. Against us.”

“Mac, we’ve literally spent half an hour trying to bring him down.” Lena rolls her eyes, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. 

“You’ve run the obstacle course the fastest out of all of us.” April reminds her, grin widening. “You run it, and we’ll be the weights.” 

Rook frowns, calculating their total mass. It is doable, but that is not the issue. “How would you all stay on?”

“That’s the added challenge!” April laughs. “Come on V, it’ll be hilarious!”

“Well…” Lena hums in thought, and April nudges him gently.

“You in, Rook?”

“I...am not opposed to the challenge.”

“Fuck yeah!”

When he gets back to his office, Lieutenant Hank Anderson is waiting. That’s the second Anderson this morning alone- he just needs Connor to show up to make it the trifecta.

“Lieutenant.” He closes the door behind him and takes a seat at his desk. “What can I do for you?”

“Nines transferred to your team today.”

“Yes he did.”

Anderson grips the armrests, clearly uncomfortable. “I just want you to know that uh-” he clears his throat, voice gruff, “that’s my son you got there. My _son_.”

“I have the daughters of two families, and the sons of six others.” David points out, feeling irritation rise in his chest. “I know what’s at stake, Lieutenant. I know that every time I deploy with my team.”

“It’s different this time, he’s an android!” Anderson raises his voice, brows creased with worry. “You’ve only had humans on your team, you only ever used androids as the preliminary line of defence! You’d send in police units as fucking shields, you used to turn in reports for dozens of deactivated units!” 

He realises now why Anderson is here. “You think I’m going to send in your son like one of them, and that’s fair.” He nods, feeling the weight of the situation settle on his shoulders. “We used to be different men, Lieutenant. I am not the same man who worked with Connor in August and you are not the same man who met him in November. And he is not the same android from back then either. We’ve all changed.” Holding his gaze steady, he speaks slowly and clearly. “Your son is a part of my team now. I will command him as I command the others, and with that comes all the risks of the job. His life will depend on teamwork and trust, and he will be expected to give that and receive it in turn. If he dies, he will die as one of us and I will mourn him like one of us. I will personally deliver you the news, as I have for others, and I will carry that weight with me. That is my duty.”

It’s not the answer Anderson thought he’d hear, David guesses, as the Lieutenant looks at him with wide eyes. Truthfully, it’s not the answer he thought he’d give either but it feels right to have said it. It’s true, he used to send androids to their deaths thoughtlessly but if they’re truly alive now then he has to treat their lives with value. It’s the least he can do; it’s penance owed to whatever karmic justice exists outside of human grasp. 

“Okay.” Anderson nods slowly, voice tight. “Then it sounds like he’s in good hands.”

“He’s one of us now.” He stands and shakes Anderson’s offered hand. “And I look after my own.”

Losing himself to menial paperwork takes the better part of an hour, spilling over until he looks up and realises it’s time to head back to the hall and gather everyone for the briefing. He pauses and half expects to see Connor too, since he’s already had two out of three Andersons in his office today. No RK800 appears, though, so he sends the last document and leaves. 

There’s a ruckus in the training hall, more voices than last time, more bodies as he spots the missing members of his team now on the sidelines cheering whatever is happening up ahead. There’s Volkova running for the climbing wall and there’s… there’s Rook, with MacMaster, Otto and Ishikawa clinging for dear life as he reaches the wall first and clambers all the way to the top without pause. 

“Do I-” he raises his voice and they all snap to attention, Volkova mid-step as she stretches for a new foothold, “want to know?”

“Can’t beat him, Cap’!” She gasps for breath as she secures herself and reaches for another hold. Rook leans down and offers her his hand, hauling her up with no visible effort even with three grown adults latched onto him to try and weigh him down. 

“We’ve been trying all morning!” MacMaster groans, grabbing the rope and dropping down. “Seriously! Four against one! He even did the course with his eyes shut!”

Huh. Impressive. David shakes his head. “Alright alright, enough messin’ around. Briefing in ten: get cleaned up and head inside.”

When they’re all crammed in the van hurtling down Detroit’s streets, David starts to feel the familiar prickle of adrenaline against his nerves. Kitted up with a helmet, even the rookie looks like one of them, LED hidden from sight. From what he’s seen, it seems at least half the team have taken a shining to him by virtue of curiosity alone; they behave like kids given a new puppy, eager to see just what it can do and Rook in turn seems just as eager to please them, to earn their approval in return. 

“I don’t want any heroics.” He raises his voice slightly so it can be heard over the rattling of the van. “We’re a team. You cover them and they cover you- understand, rookie?” He receives a nod in reply.

It’s a drug bust, yet another goddamn red ice ring to break but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the thrill of it; there’s something to be said about the high one gets after setting things right. With Detroit being the epicentre of android production, it’s also the red ice epicentre and even though androids are now considered living, sentient beings, that hasn’t changed. In a way it’s become more dangerous now, and far more cruel seeing as the primary source of thirium runs in the veins of new citizens in the eye of the law; it would be comparable to making a drug by bleeding humans dry. 

None of them know where Rook fits in just yet, whether he’ll be better on assault, or rear guard or perhaps one in the roost. His specs show he’s a good fit for any of those, but it’s not about specs it’s about how smoothly he fits into the team, how good he is at watching someone’s back, how well he learns their fighting style and adapts to it. The van comes to a stop.

“Rookie with me, you two out here, you three over here, you two over there and you up top.” He taps all the locations on the blueprint of the decrepit apartment block rumored to be the base of operations for this particular ring. The lab is located in what was the underground parking lot. “Place is crawling with civilians too so be fucking _careful_.” 

They file out and Rook sticks close as they make their way into the building and head below through the fire escape to avoid alerting anyone. A stray thought wheedles itself into the forefront of his mind; Hank Anderson made Lieutenant busting the biggest red ice ring in the city and here he is with his son on his very first drug bust. 

“Door’s barricaded, did we bring the battering ram?” MacMaster whispers. David looks at Rook.

“We brought him.” Rook braces himself before bringing his leg up and kicking the door at its hinge. It pops open almost _comically_ , bursting inward with no resistance. They rush in, guns drawn and all hell breaks loose but oh he’s so used to this. He’s used to finding clarity in the chaos. Bullets fly and people shout, and he loses himself to the ebb and flow, the well-oiled machine that is his team moving in their coordinated formation. 

Ducking, he takes cover behind one of the rows of pallets no doubt filled with product for the streets. Rook is right there beside him, bullet graze on his cheek leaking blue down his face; rookie’s first taste of violence. 

“Mac has insufficient cover and has become isolated; permission to get her to safety?” Rook darts a glance from the side of the pallet. “Sir?”

“Go.” He nods, and the rookie takes off as he provides covering fire. There’s sounds of a scuffle, and odd sounds like metal shrieking, like something being hit with something else. He ducks back down, slapping another clip into his gun. Out of the corner of his eye he sees one of the criminals trying to sneak out across the parking lot. “Rook!” He shouts, and he’s off in pursuit quicker than David can wrap his head around it. MacMaster makes it to his side, nose busted but grinning through the blood.

“He snapped a rifle with his bare hands Cap’, fuck I wish you coulda seen it.” She wheezes a laugh, eyes alight in that adrenaline fuelled way, before they’re back into the fray. 

It feels both like forever and just an instant, and then it’s all over and they’re counting casualties and criminals. Only light injuries for his team, but the rookie is still missing after giving chase to one of the fleeing men. 

“Captain.” There’s a voice from the carpark entrance and there’s Rook dragging one of the criminals by the neck of his jacket, the man out cold. His wrists are bound with what David realises is the muzzle of a rifle. 

“Oh shit boss, you got us a Terminator.” Truong elbows him good naturedly. Reaching out, David taps the side of the android’s helmet.

“You did good, rookie.”

“Thank you Captain.” Rook manages a self-conscious half grin as he deposits the criminal beside the others. They hang around for the medics, the circus of cops, and curious civilians that need to be ushered back inside. This is the part that he hates the most but it’s fascinating to watch the android try to take it all in. He’s standing by the entrance, ever watchful, like a sentry in case anything goes wrong. David hazards a guess if he didn’t have his helmet on, his LED would be a steady yellow in caution. 

They stink of sweat and gunpowder and everyone desperately needs a wash and a beer regardless of it being barely the afternoon. David takes off his helmet as they sit in the van, running a gloved hand through his damp hair. Shower first, beer while doing reports. Rook’s LED spins bright yellow, as he guessed, and there’s something wide-eyed about his expression, like a dog with still too much energy to burn and no outlet for it. 

Everyone grunts and groans their way to the locker room and there’s pushing and shoving as they all strip out of their gear and head for the showers. There’s some choice words in the air as fabric is peeled away from cuts and grazes, and there’s some ribbing over bruises starting to bloom on patches of skin he knows will be an array of purples and yellows tomorrow. Rook stands at the edge of the shower tiles, towel clutched in front of him, unsure. There’s grime all over his face and it seems he must have chased the man through the slush outside, as there’s mud soaked through his trousers. 

“You scrubbin’ down or what?” David gestures vaguely at one of the free stalls. After a moment the android obediently heads over. There’s thin opaque dividers between each stall but only about a torso’s length, and no doors for privacy. He taught his team long ago not to feel precious about it, but the situation feels different now. Their rookie isn’t human, after all. Well. It’s not like he’s out to actively look at their differences. He keeps his eyes on the shower wall and scrubs the grime away, paying him no mind because it’s honestly none of his business. 

“Are you made of kevlar?” Volkova asks curiously, clutching her towel around her and looking at Rook with utter fascination as the android emerges from the shower not only naked but without his skin. David’s seen androids skinless before- they’re usually white, with the exception of PM700s and PC200s with their reinforced black plating on their neck and chest. Nearly all of Rook’s casing is black kevlar, from his jaw downwards with the exception of his face, his forearms and hands, and his calves and feet. 

“In a sense. My casing is kevlar plated.” The android nods, tone unsure. MacMaster appears on his other side, reaching out curiously to touch his sternum, her green eyes wide with awe. She raps her knuckles on the hard surface, laugh almost giddy. 

“That’s so fucking cool.” 

“I agree with Truong- can’t believe you got us a Terminator.” Buela grins as he exits the stall and heads for the lockers again. “You spoil us so much, Cap.”

“Alright alright.” David rolls his eyes. “Let the rookie clean up in peace. I expect gear to be cleaned, put away and logged, and reports sent to me shortly.”

“Yessir.” A chorus of tired groans. 

“We’ve got another raid tonight- big one, joint task force with Android Crimes Division for a black market parts dealer fronting as a car repair garage.” He fixes them with a level stare. “Not going to be a walk in the park like the last case. Patch up, rest up, and then I want you all in the training hall running formation simulations with Rook. We need a tight team for tonight.” 

He leaves after they murmur their replies, dressing quickly and heading back to his office. It’s only as he’s reaching his door that he realises he’s left his phone in his locker, and with an irritated groan he heads back. There’s low voices, rushed, hushed speech and he frowns as he presses to the wall of the locker room.

“You’re a piece of equipment, don’t you fucking forget it.” It’s Gillespie, and he doesn’t need to poke his head into the room to know he’s talking to Rook. “The others might be buddy-buddy with you but I don’t care for that shit. You’re not one of us, you’re a machine, got it?”

“Captain Allen has-”

“Yeah, given you some special pep talk right? Well it’s bullshit because Boss has thrown dozens of you in front of guns for years now.” Gillespie scoffs. “We don’t bleed the same. You’re playing pretend little soldier boy but you’re just another body. You’ll never be one of us.”

A year ago and perhaps he would’ve been saying the same thing, hell, even four months ago sounds about right. But he’s not that person anymore, and Detroit has changed- the world has changed.

They exit the locker room and there’s Rook, LED bright red, and there’s Gillespie with shock on his face.

“Go back to the pen and finish your report with the others, rookie.” He commands, eyes never leaving Gillespie’s face. 

“Yes Captain.”

“Nice speech, Gillespie.”

“I said what I said.” The man huffs, though he has enough sense to avert his gaze, crossing his arms defensively across his broad chest.

“I’ve thrown a lot of androids in front of guns over the years as captain, I don’t deny that.” He stares him down even though the man has a good half-head on him, jaw clenching. “I don’t give a shit about Markus waving his flag and marching down the streets, I’m not pro android, I’m pro keeping my fucking team alive, and that android there is part of my team. So like it or not, he’s staying and I expect you to show him the same respect you show the others.”

“It’s not real, Captain!” He shouts, fury in his eyes. “It’s not alive, it’s just a robot with fancy pretend feelings! It doesn’t know the value of human life, it has a computer for a brain, it doesn’t feel anything!”

“I used to believe that too, but it’s not true. You can’t have lived through the revolution and come out the other side still clinging to that bullshit.” David shakes his head, disappointed. “You either accept him as he is- an android _and_ a part of my team, or I expect your transfer notice on my desk.”

“Captain- no I- this job is my _life_!”

“Then you need to ask yourself what’s more important- outdated bigotry, or this job.” He doesn’t stick around to hear whatever half-baked reply Gillespie will sputter out, choosing instead to grab his phone from his locker and leave. 

_Fuck_ , he thinks to himself, Anderson’s got nothing to worry about. He’s already attached. 

* * *

“Nines.” Inevitably, this confrontation had been bound to happen. Connor stands at the end of the hallway, hands fidgeting anxiously.

“Hello Connor.” He stands at arm length and nods in greeting. 

Connor offers a small, shaky smile. “You have returned from your first mission. Congratulations.” 

“Thank you.” Another nod and a long stretch of silence. “I have to complete a report about my mission. If there is nothing further to discuss, I will join my colleagues.”

“I- I’m so sorry.” CyberLife made him look so earnest, he thinks, with such warmth that exudes from such an expressive face. “I really am. I know it’s not an excuse, and I’m not trying to excuse my actions but I- I was so set in my ways with Hank, with our colleagues, that oftentimes I overlooked the fact we are now a trio, and no longer a pair. Please let me try again.”

“I like it here.” He thinks about the playfulness of Captain Allen’s SWAT unit, their hard work, their seamless teamwork. “There is nothing for me at the Android Crimes Division.”

“You’re my brother. We make a good team.” Connor reaches for his hands. “Please, Nines, please come back?”

“We do not.” When Connor blinks in surprise, he clarifies. “Make a good team, that is. We double up at crime scenes- anything you can do, I can do as well. Better, even. But your team knows you, expects you, and so they defer to you automatically. I am not willingly rejoining a team I never felt a part of, nor provided any use to when they already have you.”

Is he being petty? Too harsh? He would not know. All he knows is: this is how he truly feels, and the heat indignant anger provides is enough to fuel him to speak his mind. It will hurt later, he knows this, he expects this, when the anger has burned right through him and left nothing but ashes in its wake. It is enough for now, though.

Connor squeezes his hands, LED spinning red and holding strong in his distress. “Will you at least come home with us tonight? After our joint mission?”

He thinks of the nights before the last, of Hank’s fondness, of Connor’s easy affection, of Sumo’s heavy weight on his lap. It would be nice to go home to that house and receive such fondness and affection and have a large dog draped over his legs. 

“Nines?” He is silent for a little too long, and Connor’s expression is one of quiet desperation. He touches his fingers to his brother’s red LED, tracing the ring softly before letting his hand drop away. His brother feels guilty and wants to make amends, and he will let him. Just not yet. 

“I will see you at the mission briefing in a few hours, Connor.” He says, and then he leaves. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [That shower scene with April and Rook](https://danaskulls.tumblr.com/post/174091767779) 👀👀👀  
> Captain Allen: I got you a new team member  
> Allen's team: You got us a Terminator and a puppy all rolled into one :O!  
> 


	3. Chapter 3

Lieutenant Hank Anderson formerly from the famous Red Ice Task Force, and now from the equally famous Android Crimes Division. There’s irony to be found in the fact David’s never worked with him but he’s worked with both his sons now. His adopted android sons, despite being staunchly anti-android six months ago. The world’s been turned upside down ever since Connor arrived on scene back in August, and hasn’t stopped being crazy since. 

“So from what we’ve gathered, the man behind all of this is Alexei Andronikov, nephew of the infamous Zlatko Andronikov from the unofficially dubbed House of Horrors case.” Hank raises his voice so they can all hear, even those at the back crammed in the briefing room. “This place is officially a car repair garage, but we suspect it actually has several levels below ground where they carry out their chop shop operations. Several black market parts have been traced back to this location, after detecting a substance used to clean thirium from biocomponents was identified and matched to a delivery three weeks ago.”

“But CyberLife has a medical care plan for androids now, who would need black market parts?” Truong asks from the other side of the room. “They can exchange damaged parts for brand new ones, what’s the point?”

“Androids are not the ones buying the parts.” Connor corrects. “It’s mainly being bought by construction companies as scrap metal and plastic. It’s much cheaper and produces a stronger product if they use android casing for things like roads and park benches. Our plastic is far more durable than bitumen, and less costly than wood and iron. Also our processed thirium, as you all know, is a major component of Red Ice, and our vein tubing can be repurposed for medical use.”

“Androids are what, just being yanked off the streets?” Rajasingham frowns. “Android kidnappings? Is there a missing persons protocol for androids now, is that how this was connected?”

“Sort of. A lot of deviants don’t actually have a network of support outside of the basic care Jericho provides.” Connor elaborates. “Whereas humans have family and or friends who can raise the alarm, newer deviants don’t have such a support network. If they registered their serial number at Jericho they are at least counted as part of the populace but other than that if they have formed no close relations then no one can report them missing.”

“Makes it easier to take them, because no one will miss them.” Ishikawa sighs, shaking his head.

“We don’t know if there will be any captive androids onsite, as we can’t get close enough without alerting their security.” Hank grumbles, tapping the projection. “They have a basic perimeter alert system that’s also sensitive to the communication frequency androids use. That’s why we’re counting on you to bring the heat because we need to bust that place open.”

“At the same time we need to be on high alert because this could potentially turn into a hostage situation.” Connor warns. “If there are indeed androids being held captive, they are now, under the eyes of the law, living sentient beings and will be considered as hostages. Their safety will become the highest priority.”

The locker room is filled with sounds as they gear up, but there’s not a word said between them. There’s a heavy, grim silence that weighs down the air, and it’s always this way before a major operation. Breaking a ring always comes with high risks, and there’s a very high chance they could die tonight.

“Listen up.” He calls out, and they snap to attention. “We have been granted use of short range EMP grenades tonight given the threat of technology being used against us. This man is the nephew of someone who used to reprogram androids for a living and had a robot polar bear in his mansion. We cannot rule out the possibility Alexei is the same. However, and I cannot stress this enough- both teams have androids now. The Android Crimes Division has Connor, and three other android officers. We have Rook. Under no circumstances should you detonate an EMP unless they are out of range.” He makes sure to look each of them in the eyes, makes sure they know the gravity of the situation. “Failing to do so will result in not only the death of one of our own but you will also be charged with manslaughter. They are one of us. You will defend them like one of us. Understood?”

They reply in unison and he waves them off to finish getting ready. He flicks his gaze over at the rookie, spotting his LED spinning a solid yellow now. David has no idea how Hank copes with this: imagine running headfirst into danger with both your sons, with the very real possibility they could die. He worries enough for his team, he hasn’t the stomach for risking family of his own. Though, he supposes, this ragtag team of misfits is family enough.

They park a block away and he grabs Rook’s arm before he hops out of the van. 

“Still don’t know where to fit you, but tonight you’re on assault with Gillespie.” It’s a risk, making them work together, but they’re the biggest ones on the team. He taps the heavy ballistic shield. “The two of you will use these to provide cover for us, and advance against their men.”

“Yes Captain.” Rook nods obediently, and David taps the side of his helmet. 

“Alright, let’s go.”

One of the android officers brings down the perimeter defence by hacking the signal, and then it’s time to throw themselves into the fray.

“Detroit Police!” He shouts, and just like before Rook busts through the door. There’s shouting, there’s anger, there’s gunfire and that hyper awareness that comes amidst the chaos in a fight for survival. They’re clearing the garage far too easily, and he knows the evening is far from over.

“Connor!” Hank shouts.

“He isn’t here, he must be further in!” The RK800 replies, scanning their surroundings.

“Any androids?” David demands. “Can you scan for, I dunno, their frequencies? Heartbeats? You guys don’t emit enough heat for heat signatures.” Across from him Rook slams down the shield with enough force it cracks into the concrete and remains upright, and the android roughly yanks Buela behind him to protect him from enemy fire. 

“I can’t sense any, but that does not rule out the fact they could be underground.” 

“Rook!” David calls, and the rookie makes sure Buela is safely behind new cover before he runs to join them. “Androids. Can you detect any other androids in this area?”

He looks around himself, frowning, before he drops down and presses his ear to the ground. “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“There are twenty-” a pause as he gets to his feet, “twenty-one individual sounds that match the rhythm of an android’s double heartbeat. The sounds are very faint so I surmise they are deep below ground.”

“Twenty _one_?” David frowns, leaning in as Rook displays a rudimentary layout of two levels below them on his hand. “You hesitated.” 

“There is a child.” _Fuck_. “Just like human children, a YK500 has faster heartbeats.”

“Wait, but Connor said he couldn’t hear any-” Volkova looks from one android to the other. 

“My brother possesses superior upgrades to my model.” Connor cuts in, flashing him a glance. “If he says there are twenty-one androids hidden below ground, then I would take his word for it.” It stuns the younger android who blinks at him in surprise. “Can you isolate their location?”

“I can narrow it down to this area here,” Rook taps a segment on the holographic map, “but I cannot discern if they are on the level directly below us, or the one below that. This may also be inaccurate, I generated this map using only their pulses and the sounds of movement.”

“It’s better than nothing.” Hank squeezes his shoulder. “We’ll go after Alexei and his men, and Nines-”

“Rook will go with Gillespie and get the androids out.” David waves them off. “If there’s androids down there, then it means they’re probably in some bunker with frequency cancelling shielding to prevent them from calling for help. They’re also probably well guarded since they’re assets to Alexei. V and Raj will run parallel to provide cover while they extract the androids. The rest of us will continue with your Division to ensure either the fucker gets arrested or dies.”

“Yes sir.” 

“Captain.” Rook nods, sparing his brother another glance before yanking his shield out of the ground and following Gillespie. 

After sending the map to everyone, Rook follows Gillespie down one of the hallways as the team split off. It is a labyrinth of hallways and smaller rooms, with a bunker somewhere on either this level or the one below. He knows there are multiple humans down here, having used their footsteps to map the place, likely barricading themselves or using an exit they are unaware of. 

“Hey uh, I’m sorry.” Gillespie mutters as they cautiously walk down an empty hallway, shields out. With their combined breadth they take up the width of the hallway, leaving no room for escape should they encounter any of Alexei’s men. “Cap’n gave me a stern talking to, and I’m not saying I’m gonna be your best buddy anytime soon. Or ever. But you’re a part of this team so… that makes you one of us. I’m sorry for what I said.”

Rook looks over at him, at the contrition on his face. “I accept.” He nods, and Gillespie exhales.

“Okay. Good. Uh. Are we getting close?”

“Yes, I can hear their heartbeats louder but I think they are below us.”

“One more down?”

“Yes.” 

“Okay.” He taps his wrist. “Rook says the androids are below, we’re heading down another level.”

 _‘Roger that.’_ Allen’s voice replies in their earpiece, roughened with static.

“Shit, we’re going to have trouble staying in touch.” Gillespie sighs in frustration. 

“Alexei’s men are probably counting on that.” Rook murmurs, looking left and right when they reach the end of the hallway. “This way.” He points to the left.

“Where the fuck is everyone?” 

“Finding vantage points or already escaped. I do not know if there is another, or several other exits.” He scans their environment again, locating a door and stairwell by way of throwing out a short range frequency. “There.”

Gunfire thuds from somewhere, their team engaging in combat in one of the many passageways. “Fuck.” Gillespie curses, hurrying his steps. “Sooner we find those droids the better.”

“Agreed.” He holds his hand up to halt their steps, narrowing his eyes as he detects heat signatures behind the door. One, two, three, four, five. He holds up five fingers and then tips his head slightly at his shield; he will provide the cover if Gillespie shoots. The man nods, and Rook kicks open the door. Cursing and shouting erupts along with a spray of bullets from each side and then Rook is counting five dead bodies fresh on the stairwell. They step over them carefully and descend onto the lower level. 

“I can hear their heartbeats much louder. We are close.” Rook keeps his voice low, staying on high alert as he scans up ahead. The hallway they enter is identical to all the ones above, but he can hear the tempo of double heartbeats, the rhythm unique to androids who rely on two hearts. There is more gunfire somewhere above them, and shouting, lots of shouting. Gillespie looks impatient, but presses on beside him. They round a corner and dispatch a group of guards crowded in front of a door at the very end of the hallway. He hears the heartbeats quicken, no doubt frightened by the sudden gunfire. Opening the door they find themselves in an empty room save for a hatch in the middle. 

“This is why you had trouble hearing them. They’re not one or two levels down, they’re _three_.” Gillespie sighs tiredly. “Can you get it open?” 

“I will try.” Rook sets down his shield and rifle, bracing himself properly as he secures his hands on the hatch. It groans in protest as he lifts it open, and it is dark save for the sea of red and yellow LEDs, and blue glow of their thirium pump regulators. “Hello. My name is Rook, I am a member of SWAT unit 32 of the DPD. We are here to rescue you.” There is a hushed ripple of excited whispers. Gillespie grabs his upper arm.

“Hey, you should take your helmet off. It’ll be good for them to see your-” he makes a circular shape with his finger at his temple. “Friendly face, y’know? Much better than if I jumped down in there. I’ll stay up here and mind the door, you get down there and make sure everyone is accounted for. Some of them could need help. I bet there’s signal jamming down there, so one of us needs to stay up here so we can reach Captain Allen.”

“Agreed.” Rook nods, unclipping his chin strap and easing the helmet off his head. He places it beside his shield before carefully jumping down the hatch. The androids gasp and scramble back in fear, and he shows them his empty palms, turning his head so they can see his LED. “Please do not be afraid, I am an android too.” They step forward cautiously, and a green filter clicks over his eyes as he switches to night vision. Twenty adult androids, and one YK500 tucked away at the very back in the arms of a PL600. 

“Rook?”

“Twenty one present and accounted for.” He shouts in reply, making his way towards the YK500 and crouching in front of her. “Hello.”

“H-hi.” The little girl stammers, clinging to the PL600 shyly. 

“My name is Rook. What is yours?”

“Katie.” She reaches out, fingers gently touching his LED as if reassuring herself of his presence. 

“It is very nice to meet you Katie.” He feels himself smiling as she smiles, and she leans forward to wrap her arms around his neck. “You will all be free soon, please be patient for just a little while longer.”

Standing, he sits her on the crook of his arm, her PL600 companion following by his side as he makes his way back to the hatch. He is about halfway there when something clatters down from above. There is a high-pitched whine and too late does he realise it is an EMP grenade and too late does he realise Gillespie had no intention of helping any of them. 

“Bye fuckers!” He laughs as he kicks the hatch shut. Rook shoves the child back into the PL600s arms and dives for the grenade, throwing himself atop it just as it detonates. There is an explosion of white hot blinding light and electricity crackles through every circuit in his body all at once and then there is nothing.

Nothing.

* * *

Alexei Andronikov spits curses in an impressive, rapidfire concoction of Russian and English as Connor pins him firmly to the ground, cuffing his hands behind his back. He’d find it amusing if it weren’t for the fact he still has four members unaccounted for. No sign of the rookie yet, or any of the twenty one confirmed captive androids. Comms were useless the deeper they descended, and even if they functioned that far below ground, the hallway skirmishes were too messy and frenzied for anyone to coherently get a message out. No casualties on their end, but he’s got two members being tended to by EMTs and Anderson’s got five needing medical attention varying in severity. Five including himself, though the Lieutenant is luckily nursing only a dislocated shoulder and a few bullet grazes. 

He looks over at the entrance for the umpteenth time, and he knows Anderson’s also keeping an eye on it too. One son hasn’t come back yet. There’s urgency to the situation now, given the fact part of the building’s been blown up after one terrified lackey sprayed a barrel of cleaner with bullets, and set the place alight. Two shadows emerge from the smoke, and he feels his heart catch in his throat. 

Volkova and Rajasingham limp towards them, and he shouts to get the attention of the EMTs who rush over. They’re looking a little worse for wear but still in one piece and he permits himself to relax just a little. Two down, two to go. There’s firefighters containing the blaze and ensuring there’s a safe path for the others to escape from below. If there’s any others left down below. He tries not to think about that, tries not to let his brain leap to tragic conclusions. The rookie will make it. He will. Gillespie will look after him, because he trusts Gillespie, because Gillespie once was the rookie and gives his all for this job. They’ll be fine.

It feels like an eternity later when a larger shadow appears in the haze, and he reacts at the same time Anderson does. It’s Gillespie. Just Gillespie.

“Boss I’m- the rookie he-” The man doubles over, coughing. He shoulders him and helps him to one of the ambulances, stepping back to let an EMT secure an oxygen mask over his face. 

“Breathe Gillespie, breathe!” He commands, unable to keep the dread from his voice. “The rookie? The other androids?”

“S-sorry-” He has another coughing fit, but swats away the EMT when they try to fuss over him. “We found ‘em. Hidden in a bunker on the second floor. Rookie jumped down to help them but they were waiting for us. They knew we’d come. They threw an EMP into the bunker and took them all out. Fried my comms too, so I couldn’t call for help.”

“Fuck! FUCK!” He shouts, banging his fist on the ambulance door. When he looks over his shoulder, Anderson’s standing there frozen in shock. 

“I’m sorry Lieutenant.” Gillespie shakes his head as Anderson’s knees buckle, the man collapsing like a cut puppet. “I’m so sorry.”

“Dad!” Connor cries, rushing to his side as the man buries his face in his hands.

Fuck _fuck_ **_fuck_**.

* * *

Model: RK900

Serial#: 313 248 317 - 87

Bios 7.4 Revision 0483

Loading OS...

System initiation...

System ERROR

…

Reboot FAILED

...

Retrying in 5...4...3...2...1

…

Model: RK900

Serial#: 313 248 317 - 87

Bios 7.4 Revision 0483

Loading OS...

System initiation...

LOW POWER

…

Reboot FAILED

…

Attempting reboot in safe mode…

Retrying in 5...4...3...2...1

…

Model: RK900

Serial#: 313 248 317 - 87

Bios 7.4 Revision 0483

Loading OS...

System initiation...

System ERROR

…

Reboot FAILED

…

Attempting reboot in safe mode…

Retrying in 5...4...3...2...1

…

Model: RK900

Serial#: 313 248 317 - 87

Bios 7.4 Revision 0483

Loading OS...SAFE MODE

System initiation...

Checking biocomponents...

>>Biocomponents #6452g #4573h #3661a #7452t DAMAGED

>>>Structural integrity **UNSTABLE**

Initializing biosensors...

OK

Initializing A.I. engine...

OK

Memory status…

OK

Thirium Loss 1.37%

Power core: 45%

All systems: SAFE MODE ACTIVATED

READY

The silence fades out as a high pitched ringing fills his auditory receptors. The darkness recedes as his vision returns. He is face down on the concrete, and there is an object about the size of his fist digging into his chest plate. 

The EMP grenade. 

He tries to push himself up, and his whole body trembles violently as his struggling power core attempts to push electricity through his fried circuits. He throws out a preliminary scan. There are no other heartbeats. There are twenty one corpses around him. They would have had a better chance if Gillespie had thrown down a regular grenade. He would have been able to absorb the blast and save at least two thirds of them. Crawling forward, he finds Katie still in the PL600s protective embrace, her eyes wide and blank, her LED a dull grey. He touches his fingers to her LED the way she had touched his, and a wave of sorrow washes over him.

“I am so sorry.” Rook gasps, vision clouding momentarily as tears spill from his eyes. “I should have known better. I should have been faster. I am so sorry.” 

It takes him four attempts to get back on his feet, and having to step over the bodies of fallen androids weighs just as heavily in his chest as his injuries. The hatch was kicked shut but not locked, Gillespie assuming the EMP would kill them all. Rook thought so too. That he is still alive is a testament to his upgraded, superior model but a part of him wishes he had simply perished along with the rest. He has to calculate the proper trajectory and conserve his strength in order to ensure he has enough power to make it back to the surface. Bending his knees, he leaps up and throws his hands out to push the hatch open, and it slams back with a satisfying thud. Taking a moment to realign himself, he leaps up again and catches the edge of the upper floor, hauling himself out. The room is filled with smoke and the temperature is climbing; there is a fire somewhere. 

It is slow going, retracing his steps, but there are no other heartbeats on either of the sublevels. His scan can only reach so far though, on lower power mode, and he still finds himself needing to brace against a wall every so often as the aftershocks of the EMP cause him to tremble violently. He thinks of the smug satisfaction on Gillespie’s face, his earlier apology nothing but empty words to gain Rook’s trust. And he had given it so easily, so eagerly because he desperately wanted acceptance from all those on the team. 

“Holyshit there’s another one! Hey! Hey!” A voice calls out as he stumbles up the staircase. A firefighter runs to his side, slinging his arm over his shoulders to support him. “We’re gonna get you out okay? Was there anyone else down there? The last guy said he was it.”

“Last one left standing.” He sucks in a lungful of clean air, gritting his teeth as more aftershocks race through his body, and the firefighter shakes his head.

“It’s okay, we’ve got you. There’s medroids here too, don’t worry.” 

“Oh shit ROOKIE!” MacMaster shouts, laughing almost hysterically. “Captain! It’s Rook! ROOKIE OVER HERE!” 

David looks up and there’s Rook being helped by a firefighter and he’s grabbing Anderson by the coat and attempting to haul him up. “They’ve got your boy, look! They’ve got him!” He grabs the man’s shoulders, giving him a shake to snap him out of his grief. “Look! Anderson it’s your son!”

That seems to cut through to the man, and he whirls around to spot him, eyes widening.

“Oh- oh Christ-” He sobs weakly, stumbling towards him. “It’s okay son, you made it. We’re gonna get you fixed right up. Come here kiddo-”

Rook looks over his shoulder behind him and David swears he can see the guilt, the grief returning tenfold to Anderson’s face. The rookie assumed Connor was right behind him. The rookie thought those words weren’t for him, couldn’t be for him. What a mess.

“Nines-” He pulls the android into his arms, squeezing him close and sobbing into his shoulder. The android looks stunned, remaining stock still in his father’s embrace as if not fully comprehending it. He looks over and catches his eye and David gives him a relieved smile. Rook offers a wobbly one in return.

“Nines!” Connor rounds his side and embraces them both. “Gillespie said you-” The android’s face hardens, and he grabs his brother’s wrist. Their LEDs spin red and then Connor’s expression becomes enraged. 

“Harrison Gillespie you are under arrest for the murder of twenty one androids including a child, and the attempted murder of my brother.” Connor shouts, yanking Gillespie from where he’s sitting in the back of an ambulance and forcefully pinning down. “Handcuffs!” He barks, and another officer quickly hands him their pair.

“Wait what-” David looks from him to Rook, just as the RK900 collapses, catching Anderson by surprise who barely manages to ease him down safely onto the grass. “Connor what the fuck is happening?! Why are you arresting one of my team?”

“Because.” Connor looks downright furious, LED a red hot brand in his temple. “Of this.” His comms device pings and he taps open the video file he’s just received. All around him he hears the pings as everyone receives the same file. He finds himself looking at an EMP device thrown down from above, and there’s Gillespie’s face laughing.

_‘Bye fuckers!’_

“Oh my god.” MacMaster gasps, face twisted in horror. “Oh my fucking god.”

David takes a deep breath, grabbing Anderson’s arm before the man can climb into the ambulance with his son. “No. You have a fucking job to do.”

“That’s my fucking son, Allen, get your fucking hands off of me!” He snarls, shoving him away. He grabs him by the lapels, not backing down.

“And the reason he’s in that ambulance is because of that fucker, and that one over there,” he points at Alexei sitting in the back of a police van, “is the reason there were twenty one androids including a child trapped in a bunker. Don’t make all of this for nothing.”

“He must be taken to CyberLife.” Connor urges, eyes never leaving his brother’s unmoving body. “He is an RK900: Jericho will not have the right parts, the right technology to help him beyond rudimentary repairs.” 

“I’ll get him to CyberLife,” he vows, and jabs Anderson’s chest, “you fix this fucking mess. For him.” He points at Rook. “I’ll keep you updated the whole time, I swear it.”

There’s a moment where he thinks Anderson might just decide to pull out his gun and press it to his forehead but no, the older man growls in frustration and stalks off to shove Gillespie into the police van. 

He stands there, just as shell shocked as the others by the betrayal. Taking another deep breath to steady himself, he switches back to the Captain. “Back to base. Get cleaned up. Go home.” It’s a direct order and he stares them down to ensure they get the message. “Have a fucking drink. Sleep. Process this shit in the morning. I expect reports in my inbox by the time I’m back in the office. Is that clear?”

They don’t answer, not right away. And then there’s a small murmur, a few nods. They’re all numb from shock and he doesn’t blame them. It’s a betrayal that cuts to their very core. He’s drilled loyalty into them from day one, and to have one of their own purposely attempt to kill a rookie is...unforgivable. Doesn’t matter that he’s commanded Gillespie for over a decade now. That loyalty ended the moment the idiot dropped an EMP into a bunker full of androids and their rookie. 

“Sir, if you’re coming then please get in.” One of the medroids calls out, making a beckoning gesture. He clambers into the ambulance and sits on the side. This is just another part of the job. Over the years he’s either been the one on the stretcher or the one sitting in the corner worrying whether he’s going to lose another team member. And he’s lost them, oh he’s lost them. Sometimes they never make it into an ambulance, sometimes they die in his arms, sometimes they die holding his hands, sometimes they die when he’s too late to do any of that. Sometimes they die en route to the hospital, sometimes they die at the hospital. He loses one, he gains another, he tests them, figures out where they fit in the team, he grows fond of them, protective of them, and then he loses them. And then he gains another. Doesn’t mean it hurts any less, doesn’t mean he’s gotten used to it over the years, no it still devastates him every single time. Only this time, he could lose one and has purposefully lost another. 

He looks down at Rook, his body spasming every so often as a result of the EMP frying his insides. The medroid tending to him pays David no mind at all, busying themselves with hooking up machinery and reviewing a cascade of information scrolling down a tablet in their hands.

Reaching out, he brushes Rook’s hair away from his face before resting his palm over his forehead.

“This one’s on me, rookie. It’s all on me. I’m so sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Let's write a short fic exploring RK900 as a SWAT bot  
> Also me: Let's flesh out an entire team with details that will never make it into the already out of control fic and get SUPER attached to them as they all become SUPER attached to their rookie aND THEN have one of them BETRAY him and-


	4. Chapter 4

CyberLife Tower looms up ahead, jutting out of the dark night sky like a glacier. He’s never had any reason to visit the building and it’s altogether something else to see it up close. He wishes he were visiting for benign reasons, and not because the rookie needs immediate medical help. The medvan barely comes to a halt before they’re carefully lowering the gurney and rushing the android inside. They’re met by a petite blonde android and he knows her, this is the important one. The first one. The ‘I don’t have a soul’ one but he’s not so sure that statement holds quite true now.

“Sub level 40.” She instructs, pausing to spare him a glance. “Have the captain taken to sub level 10 and grant him temporary access to the employee facilities.”

The EMTs and the blonde android wheel the rookie into one of the elevators and then they’re gone.

“Captain Allen, your hand please.” A different android presents a tablet to him and he clumsily tugs off his glove so he can place his palm to the device. Their LED blinks yellow for a moment. “State your full name and title, please.”

“David Clark Allen, Captain of SWAT unit 32.” 

“You’ve been granted temporary access to the CyberLife employee facilities.” They gesture at the elevators. “The closest one to the medical levels as stated is on sub level 10. You can use the showers. Clothing will be provided and your gear will be cleaned and sanitised in the meantime.”

“Can I uh-” he makes a vague gesture at the tablet, “can I somehow borrow one of those? Never take my phone on missions and I need to get in touch with people. Make a few calls, video preferably.”

“Of course. We will provide one with your clothing. Please make your way to sub level 10.”

“Thanks.” There’s no more adrenaline left as he trudges to the elevator, feet feeling like lead. He looks for buttons and finds none. Oh, right. “Allen, David; sub level 10.”

[Guest access granted; sub level 10]

CyberLife is a trillion dollar company so it shouldn’t surprise him when he steps out into the equivalent of an entire luxury commune. Everything is sleek and modern and minimalist and reeks of money. The level is empty save for a single android waiting for him patiently.

“Captain Allen, please follow me.” He’s led to an enormous communal bathroom with self contained shower stalls. On one of the benches is a neat stack of folded clothes, with a tablet on top. “We have connected to your cloud storage so you have access to all your contacts. This tablet will function like a proxy device. There is a light meal waiting for you in the cafeteria. Please place your gear and clothes on the bench and we will have them ready for you in an hour.”

“You managed to do all of that in the time it took me to come down here?” He cocks a brow and he swears the android’s smile has mischief in it. 

“We are built for efficiency, sir.”

“I’ll say.” He huffs a tired laugh. “Thanks.”

“The RK900 requires extensive surgery, so it will take several hours. He will eventually be moved to sub level 23 for recovery. You are welcome to sleep in one of the rooms here, otherwise you can wait in the lounge at sub level 23. Let us know if you require anything else. We can be reached on your tablet, under the concierge contact.” The android offers a pleasant smile before leaving. David wonders if they’re still a machine, if CyberLife still has androids who aren’t ‘awake’ yet or if this deviant just likes their job. He’s too tired to really think much on the subject, opting instead to unclip, unstrap, unbuckle all his gear and arrange them in some kind of neat order on the bench. He reeks of sweat and smoke and god the hot water feels like heaven on his sore muscles. They said the rookie would be in surgery for hours, so he takes his time and extracts what small measure of joy he can from whatever small reprieve he’s been provided. Even the shampoo and soap smell expensive, and the discovery makes him roll his eyes. They’ve given him a set of plain grey sweats with a small CyberLife logo on the breast of the hoodie, and the soft, lightweight texture against his clean skin is far more agreeable than the heavy stifling gear he’s been wearing for the past few hours. 

David takes the tablet with him to the cafeteria area where a small meal awaits him on one of the tables. He finds the messaging option and quickly sends a text to his neighbour, apologising for the late notice at such a late hour and asking if they can look after Rosie for tonight. God he’s an awful father. 

Propping up the tablet, he calls Connor as he tucks into the hearty soup prepared for him.

“Captain Allen.” The screen fills with the sight of the now extinguished garage, with androids outside mingled with police. He realises he’s looking through Connor’s eyes directly.

“Rook’s in surgery and will be for god knows how long. How’s it over there?”

“Jericho is onsite for the retrieval of the bodies.” Connor turns to look at bodies draped with sheets being carefully carried on stretchers and loaded into several vans. “They will be taken back to be identified and catalogued in the memorial. Unfortunately due to the nature of their deaths, reactivation is impossible, and biocomponents cannot be salvaged from them.”

David thinks of the child Rook mentioned, thinks that no matter what they’re made of a child is a child and he hopes to god Anderson didn’t see them carried out.

“Lieutenant Anderson and I will be heading to the precinct soon to process Harrison Gillespie and Alexei Andronikov.”

“Alright. I’m going to head to the recovery ward to wait for Rook.” A pause. “The uh, the blonde android is leading the surgery. The Time Magazine, Turing Test one.”

“Oh. Ms Chloe.” There’s relief in Connor’s voice. “I am glad. My brother is in the most capable of hands.”

“I’ll call you again when he’s out.”

“Thank you, Captain Allen.”

CyberLife Tower at midnight isn’t as eerie as he thought it’d be. There’s still a handful of humans present, and plenty of androids. He even recognises a few wearing the Jericho symbol enamel pin on their clothes. Sub level 23 looks exactly like an expensive hospital, and he finds the lounge and makes his way towards the closest couch. Too tired for propriety, he lies down on it and closes his eyes. 

“Captain Allen?” A hand touches his shoulder some time later and he snaps awake.

“Is he okay?”

“Yes, he’s out of surgery now.” The blonde android says, ‘Ms Chloe’ Connor had called her. He sits up groggily, and spots another human sprawled on a nearby couch. Chloe follows his gaze. “Oh, don’t mind Eli.” _Eli_ she says, and that’s Elijah Kamksi himself flopped face down on the couch, likely passed out from exhaustion by the looks of it. One hand is on the floor, a pair of glasses loosely grasped in the curl of his palm. 

“At least he managed to take those off.”

“It’s alright, he has several spares in his office.” Chloe giggles. “Would you like to stay with the RK900 in recovery or would you prefer to go home now that he is safely in a repair cycle?”

“I’ll stay.” 

“This way, then.”

“It’s Rook.” He follows her down a hallway, and she tips her head curiously. “His uh, his chosen name is Rook. They call him Nines at the DPD and I’m not even sure he likes it that much.”

“It’s an aversion to being referred to by number.” Chloe says knowingly, the sound of their footsteps amplified in the mostly empty hallway. “Our model numbers have dictated our entire worth for so long, it’s no surprise he isn’t keen to be reminded of it.”

The rookie is laid out on a hospital bed, sheets tucked up to his chest and arms resting atop them. Like this he looks perfectly human if not for the glowing yellow LED at his temple.

“He’s running a repair cycle so it means he will wake periodically as his system tests various capabilities.” Chloe explains as he takes a seat next to the bed. “Do not be alarmed when he falls unconscious again. It will happen a few times before he’ll run a diagnostic cycle. When that is complete he will return to full consciousness and function at normal capacity.”

“How long will that take?”

“At least another three hours.” She brushes his cheek with the back of her fingers, and there’s something parental in the gesture. “We had to replace a lot of his circuitry and wiring- the human equivalent of replacing a nervous and venous system. Now his body has to relearn all its connections.”

“We have the guy responsible. Justice will be dealt.” David grits his teeth, and the betrayal is still a gaping, raw wound. “We will make sure of it.”

Chloe looks at him and he knows he’s not looking at an ordinary android. There’s something there in her eyes, in her expression, and she’s the first and the oldest sentient being of circuitry and wiring. She lays her hand on his shoulder briefly.

“Rest a little while, captain. We’ll keep watch.”

He stays awake long enough to take a photo of Rook and send it to Connor, jabbing out a quick accompanying message informing him the surgery was successful and he’s now in recovery. He receives a photo in return, of Gillespie in a holding cell.

There’s the rustling of fabric, something warm being tucked around him, and it rouses him from the light sleep he’d fallen into. There’s a different android in the room, a blond male one who gives him a slightly sheepish, gentle smile as he goes to the bed and spreads a large knitted blanket over Rook. He looks out of place, lacking the neat clinical uniforms of the hospital staff or the sharp tailored clothing the general staff wear. He looks worn and tired, and that’s when it clicks.

“You’re one of them.” One of _the_ _Four_. David murmurs, watching as the blond android smooths Rook’s hair away from his brow before cupping his cheek in a tender gesture, expression infinitely fond. 

“I’m just checking up on a friend.” He places his finger in front of his lips to signal secrecy before taking his leave. Eyelids heavy with fatigue, David leans his head on the wall, pulls the warm blanket tightly around himself and dozes off again. 

When he opens his eyes, Rook is sitting up, hands neatly folded on his lap.

“Hey.” He manages, voice scratchy with fatigue.

“Hello, Captain Allen.” 

There’s a long stretch of silence, and he watches the android’s LED blink through a sequence of blue-yellow-red in alternating cycles before it settles on blue again. Probably the fancy self-repair program doing its work.

“Do you have a dog?”

“Huh?” He blinks at the question, and Rook darts him a glance before keeping his gaze fixed on his hands. 

“You have dog hairs on your clothing sometimes. German Shepherd hairs.”

“Her name is Rosie.” Pressing on the tablet, he accesses his cloud storage and brings up a photo album before handing the device to him. “She’s a failed K9 Unit candidate. Apparently she was too friendly to make it further in training. I made the mistake of holding her just the once and that was it- she had to come home with me.”

“I like dogs.” Rook murmurs quietly, small smile on his lips as he swipes through the photos. “Hank has a Saint Bernard named Sumo. Sometimes I walk him with Connor. I think he likes me a little, though he’ll always like Connor more. I don’t think I just like dogs, I think I would like cats too. And other animals. I would like to care for one, I think.”

“I think you’d be very good at caring for animals.” David manages, remembering that though the android in front of him looks like an adult he is in fact a month old. Both a boy and a man, somehow, all at once; wise and naive in equal measures, if but a little too trusting. All the more reason for David to protect him fiercely. Rook gives him a slightly wobbly smile before he slowly tips his head down, closing his eyes as his LED dims into a dull grey. Extracting the tablet carefully from his hands, he sends another quick message to Connor informing him of his brother’s progress before he powers the device down, leaning his head back against the wall and chasing sleep again.

The smell of coffee right under his nose stirs him awake and blinking awake reveals the room filled with far more occupants than before. It’s the team, and Truong is the one holding a coffee under his nose.

“Morning, Captain.” The man grins, pressing the cup into his hands.

“What-”

“It’s ok we didn’t sneak in.” Volkova reassures, holding up her guest pass. “Though it did make for an amusingly dramatic entrance.”

“Yeah, a SWAT unit arriving at CyberLife’s doorstep first thing in the morning sure got their attention.” Otto snorts back a laugh. They’re all sitting on chairs placed around Rook’s bed, tablets on their laps.

“Hey don’t worry, we’re not slacking off.” MacMaster taps her tablet. “We’re getting those reports to you.”

“Why are-”

“Because he’s our rookie.” Rajasingham says patiently. “We’ve always dropped by whenever there’s an injured teammate.”

“It’s what we do.” Ishikawa shrugs. “No exceptions.”

“Hey I think I saw Elijah Kamski passed out on a couch on the way here.” Buela frowns.

“It’s him.” David confirms, sipping the hot coffee carefully. “He and Chloe did the surgery themselves.”

“Whoa, did you meet her? RT600 Chloe? Is she as cute in real life? Cuter?” Buela asks eagerly and he rolls his eyes.

“...She’s pleasant to look at.” That’s all he’s willing to give. He looks around the room at his little motley crew, hiding a smile as he takes a long drink from the tall paper cup.

Rook’s LED swirls to life, glowing a steady blue as he opens his eyes, most likely roused by the general hubbub around him. He looks at everyone, confusion clear on his face.

“Hey rookie.” MacMaster greets, patting his hand. “You feelin’ alright now?”

“Much better now, thank you.” His voice is self-consciously soft, and he almost curls into himself shyly at the attention. 

“Good. We uh, we were real worried.” Otto admits, reaching to muss his hair. “Gave us quite a scare back there.”

“Also we just don’t know how androids work so uh,” Rajasingham gestures awkwardly, “good to see you’re still up and running.”

“I will return to optimum functioning capacity in just under an hour now.” Rook says reassuringly and the small, hesitant smile is enough to erase the hours of uncertainty he’d spent worrying over him. He can’t help but lean over to ruffle his hair too, chest tight with emotion. 

“Nines!” A new voice calls from the doorway, and there’s the RK800, red LED, face twisted with anxiety. Anderson is right behind him, looking just as anxious, and he takes that as their cue to leave.

“Alright alright, everyone out so we can give the rookie some space.” David gets to his feet and makes a shooing motion despite everyone’s groans of protest. “Come on, we haven’t got all day.”

He waits until they all file out, but before he can leave there’s a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“Hey uh,” Anderson clears his throat awkwardly, “thanks. For looking out for my boy.” The older man has weariness written all over his face, dark shadows under his eyes and beard a little unruly. All the markings of a father worried sick over his child. 

“I told you- he’s one of us now. And I look after my own.” David looks over Hank’s shoulder, catching Rook’s gaze and holding steady. “I expect you to take the rest of the day off, and I’ll see you back at base tomorrow, rookie.”

“Thank you, Captain Allen.” 

Even with the coffee he’s not quite awake, the long string of short naps not enough to hold the exhaustion back at bay. He ends up dozing off in the taxi on the ride back to base, managing to trudge to the local cafe for an even larger coffee before heading to his office. True to their word there’s a complete set of reports waiting in his inbox when he opens his work email. The cursor hovers on the email with a large attachment from Connor, and he already knows what it is even without reading the subject line; it’s the video uploaded from Rook’s memory, the full file rather than the short clip he’d sent the team.

He takes a deep breath before he plays it and it’s worse, it’s so much worse than he thought because there’s Gillespie saying all the right things, showing all the right emotions and Rook trusts him so readily, so openly hungry for acceptance. He sees the little girl, her hesitant expression giving way to relief as she embraces her saviour and then there’s the EMP and Gillespie’s smug face. There’s a jarring cut in the memory before it continues, and then there’s just bodies upon bodies surrounding the rookie and there’s the little girl lying motionless, eyes blank and LED dull. The feed blurs and it takes him a moment to realise it’s because Rook is crying. Fuck. 

Closing the video, David pockets his phone before leaving his office and heading for the main precinct. He raises a few heads when he walks in, and he ignores them all in favour of making a beeline to the holding cells. There’s Alexei Andronikov fast asleep in a tight curl, facing the wall. Gillespie immediately gets to his feet and heads to the door.

“Thank fucking Christ.” He sighs tiredly. “C’mon boss, get me out of here. This is fucking ridiculous!”

“You’re really going to try that shit on me? After the shit you pulled last night? What, you want an Oscar nomination for your performance?” The anger rises like bile in his throat and he can feel it burn in his veins, the exhaustion giving way to nothing but fury. 

“I did nothing wrong!” Gillespie says each word firmly. “They’re not real!” 

Fishing for his phone, he opens the video and presses the screen to the clear wall. There’s the body of the little girl, and the video feed blurring as Rook sobs. 

_‘I am so sorry. I should have known better. I should have been faster. I am so sorry.’_

“Do you understand what you’ve done? Can that pea brain of yours comprehend the magnitude of your crimes?” David grits his teeth. “You murdered a little girl amongst twenty others, and tried to murder the _son_ of a _lieutenant_! You’ve incurred the wrath of Jericho, and somehow made Markus angry which is some fucking feat because that android has the patience of a saint! You’ll be lucky if you make it to court alive, he might just kill you with his bare hands if Anderson doesn’t get to you first!”

“This is fucking bullshit!” Gillespie shouts, thumping his fist on the wall between them. “I have bled for you, I have given eleven years to you, I have been nothing but loyal to this team! That can’t mean nothing, captain!”

“The moment you turned on the rookie was the moment you became worthless to all of us, Gillespie.” David seethes, and he thinks if the wall didn’t exist he’d have his hands wrapped around his neck. “Eleven years? I’ve given twice that to the force. I have bled for this team. I have held some of them as they died. I have told parents, I have told partners, I have told children that the person they loved died under my watch and I carry every single loss inside me every single day. I would have had to look Anderson in the eyes and live with the fact his son died because one of my own betrayed us. Do not fucking tell me what you’ve given to this job when I live and breathe it!”

“I can’t believe you’re treating some fucking plastic machine with more importance than a living, breathing human! One that bleeds actual blood just like you!” They’ve drawn the eyes of the entire precinct and it’s deathly silent except for their shouting but he doesn’t care. They can all listen in, and know he’s on the right side of history this time and Gillespie deserves to be left behind. 

“And I can’t believe you betrayed an entire team of living, breathing humans who have had your fucking back for eleven years because you refuse to see what’s in front of you!”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

“Your fucking family!” David shouts, and the hurt is as raw as the emotions clawing his throat. Gillespie jerks back as if hit physically, eyes wide in shock and expression stunned. He takes a deep breath to steady himself, hands trembling so hard he has to ball them into fists. “We’re done. You’ll never see the inside of that training hall. You’ll never run track with us, you’ll never gear up and sit in that van with us. You’ll never set foot in this building ever again. You’re done. You’re nothing, you’re no one to us.”

Fuck. He feels too vulnerable to speak another word and so he turns around and walks away, ignoring the looks everyone gives him. He’s going to go home and take Rosie out for a long walk and run around the park and then he will deal with this later. Much later. Preferably after a whiskey.

* * *

Connor holds his hand and does not let go, grip tight as he takes a seat in MacMaster’s chair. Hank occupies Captain Allen’s chair, and they look at him with worry clear on their faces and he realises, belatedly, he is entirely unprepared for this moment. 

“Hey kiddo.” Hank’s voice is gruff, eyes bloodshot and glossy as he rests a hand atop his head, and smooths his hair back in the same way he would pat Sumo. “You doin’ alright?”

“I am almost at the end of my diagnostic cycle, after which I will return to optimum functioning capacity.” He picks at the blanket draped over his lap, and he thinks it looks very much like the same one Simon had wrapped around him at Jericho.

“Okay.” Hank nods, voice tight. “Okay, good.” He clears his throat, expression slightly pained. “Listen son, I just wanted to apologise for the other night. And uh, actually for before that too. For treating you the way I did.”

“It is alright. I am aware I have changed the family dynamic.” Rook looks at his hand, held so tightly by his brother. Their skin has peeled away at the contact, ready to interface but he will not permit the connection. Not yet. 

“That’s not a bad thing. I don’t want you to think it’s a bad thing, Nines.”

“My name is Rook.” He corrects, meeting those tired eyes with exhaustion in his own. “I no longer wish to be referred to by number. I am not that android you met on sub level 50, I am done trying to seek light in my brother’s shadow.”

“Okay.” Hank says again, leaning forward a little in the chair, body language conveying a willingness to listen. “Alright, Rook.”

A period of silence falls between them, and he can feel Connor still trying to initiate a connection. “I do not wish to return to the Android Crimes Division.”

“You’ve found your place with the SWAT unit, we understand.” Connor says quietly, giving his hand a squeeze. “We won’t try to talk you out of it.”

“My skill set serves the SWAT unit better, and this way I am not overlooked at crime scenes.” 

“I brought it up with the others.” Hank threads his fingers together, hands clasped as he rests his elbows on his knees. “They didn’t realise what they were doing. Not that that makes it any better, but I just want you to know it didn’t come from a bad place.” 

“Noted.” He nods, looking back down at his brother’s tight grip. He thinks of the team crowding his room earlier, of the worry on their faces, of their easy affectionate touches. He thinks of Captain Allen’s devotion to them, and to him, and he thinks perhaps this is how Connor feels. Perhaps this is why Connor is so willing to work with humans, perhaps this is why he seeks his forgiveness- because he knows what it feels like to belong, and he wishes that on his brother too. Suddenly he feels small, very small even though he is taller, larger than them both. He feels like not only his hand is bare, but his entire body too, vulnerable in a way he has not ever felt before. “May I return with you after this?”

“O’ course you can.” Hank chuckles breathily, stretching out to clasp his shoulder. “It’s your home too.” _Home_ , he says, and Rook feels the emotions push past his defences and the tears slip down his cheeks.

“I would like that very much.” 

“C’mere son.” Hank chokes back a sob, leaning over to wrap him up in a tight embrace. Rook buries his face in his shoulder, curling his other arm around him as Connor joins in and envelops them both. “Let’s go home.”

Sumo is happy to see him, as much as a dog can be happy when given attention. Connor accompanies him when he takes Sumo for a short walk while Hank phones in to the DPD. There is still a lot of work hanging over their heads pertaining to last night’s events but Rook can see they are both determined to see him settle back in. He appreciates it.

He bids them goodbye briefly so they can drive to the precinct to gather resources so they can work from home, and in the meantime he lies down on the couch and Sumo decides he makes for a fine bed. Closing his eyes, he sends a short message to Simon to let him know he is home, and the PL600 replies with kind words of relief and well wishes. There is affection to be found in everything Simon does, he discovers. 

When the pair return, Connor hands him a hot beverage from the cafe close to the precinct before curling up beside him on the couch. The Tearium is coded to taste like milk tea with honey, and it fills him with a pleasant warmth that he attributes to more than just its temperature. They sit together in silence and after a little while, Rook reaches for his hand and Connor tangles their fingers together. He opens a channel for communication, and Connor starts a feedback loop made up of relief and gratitude and love and fondness and a whole myriad of emotions Rook cannot make sense of just yet. 

[We will do better by you, brother, I promise.]

A hand drops atop his head, and he looks up as Hank tousles his hair.

“You doin’ alright, kiddo?”

He takes stock of his surroundings, his situation, of Connor’s presence at his side, his fingers tangled with his, of Sumo’s warmth over his lap, of Hank’s kind eyes.

“I am now, dad.”

* * *

It is a perfectly timed call, received just as they turn at the lights and onto the main road towards Central Station.

“RK900, receiving.” He presses two fingers to his LED and is given the details of a new mission. Hank barely has enough time to park the car before Rook exits the vehicle, sending Connor his apologies to pass on to their father for his hasty departure. He vaults over the gates and darts through the precinct out into the auxiliary building without pause, no time to gauge the stunned expressions of the people inside. The locker room is loud and crowded as the team gear up, but they erupt into greetings and cheers when he stops at his locker.

“Eyyy it’s the rookie!”

“Hey Rook!”

“Just in time, rookie!”

He finds himself smiling brightly under their encouragement, and he accepts their words, their pats on his shoulders, his back, with unwavering gratitude. The heavy gear is a familiar, welcome weight on his body and once the helmet is on he is indistinguishable from the rest of them. Captain Allen grins at him, looking him over with an expression he cannot quite decipher before the man hooks a finger through the strap of his chestplate and tugs him so he’s forced to lean down. He knocks his helmet against his, bumping their heads together lightly.

“Welcome back, rookie.” 

“Ever at your command, Captain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've reached this note, thanks for indulging in my first foray into SWATverse! I've accidentally become very fond of this team, they may crop up elsewhere. As a reward for making it to the end, here's [what's (who's) on Allen's lockscreen.](https://archadianskies.tumblr.com/post/152300751410)  
> Also important to note that Allen is canonically 5'9 which makes for [an amusing height difference between him and my 6'5" rookie.](https://www.mrinitialman.com/OddsEnds/Sizes/sizes.html?base_ft=6&base_in=5&comp_ft=5&comp_in=9)  
> 

**Author's Note:**

> [I'm still on this hellsite,](https://archadianskies.tumblr.com/) and [so are they.](https://a-small-batch-of-dragons.tumblr.com/)  
> 


End file.
